I wrote Splendour on the eve of the new millennium. The whole decade, from the late 1980s onwards really, had been a period of huge political unrest. The play is set in an unknown eastern European city over the course of one night. There are four female leads and, as the evening progresses, you work out that one of them is the wife of a dictator. She is waiting for her husband to come home because he’s about to do a very important interview and have his portrait taken by a war photographer. But then she realises he isn’t coming back.

As the night unfolds, it transpires that not only has her husband left her, but the country is on the brink of revolution, one that’s going to wreak bloody revenge. You soon realise that you’re watching the last night of her life.